


Always Holding on to Stars

by YesIsAWorld



Series: Madrid AU [1]
Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Break Up, Recreational Drug Use, situational depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 10:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11011263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesIsAWorld/pseuds/YesIsAWorld
Summary: Louis and Nick break up. Louis is learning how to cope.





	Always Holding on to Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Happy one year ficiversary to me! In the past year I've completed ten fics, which is wild to me. Thank you to everyone who has cheered for me and read some of my words and reblogged posts and left kudos and comments. I've found a really terrific writing support system in the fandom and I love all of you. xx
> 
> Now, to the actual notes for this fic. 
> 
> This fic started as the first chapter to a much longer fic. That fic has a different end game and this all felt like it might be unnecessary backstory, but I really liked it and didn't want to just trash it. So I'm posting it as the first fic in the series instead of keeping it as a first chapter. 
> 
> Also, I ran out of my time on my self-imposed deadline, so this has not been Britpicked. I apologize profusely. Hopefully nothing is egregiously distracting. 
> 
> I owe a debt of gratitude to [Lauren](http://www.fullonlarrie.tumblr.com/) for agreeing to beta this so quickly. Love you!!!
> 
>  
> 
> **Please do not post this fic or any of my other fics on any other websites. I'm not currently allowing translations either. Thank you for respecting my wishes.**

Louis took one last look in the mirror. His red scoop-neck shirt highlighted his collarbones perfectly and his tight black skinnies with the ripped knees highlighted his arse. He inched closer to his reflection so he could inspect the gold shimmer lining his blue eyes. He hoped it was enough to mask the pain in his heart, which was still clenched too tight, and in his head, which was exhausted from overthinking. He fully expected to be bombarded with too many prying questions from too many people at the party. 

His driver texted to say the car was waiting out front when he was ready. Louis sent a message to his bandmates—they were still bandmates—Liam and Zayn, letting them know that he was on his way before pocketing his phone and heading out. He hadn't been to Mahiki in ages, probably before he met Nick, if he thought about it hard enough, and a night out drinking and dancing with a few hundred industry friends would do him well. Despite their hiatus, The Rogue was still contractually obligated to attend a smattering of events. As Little Mix's label mates, they were required to show up to the girls' release party for their most recent album. 

At least this would stop certain people from claiming he needed to get out of the house. 

Despite his assertions that he didn't want to hook up with anyone—he and Nick would be fine, thank you very much—Liam and Zayn probably would've dragged him out to the party even if they weren’t obliged to attend. Their constant comments, that he had to 'get back out there' and that there were 'plenty of fish in the sea' and quite frankly they were 'sick of all his goddamn moping' meant he couldn't hide in his flat forever. 

He and Nick were on a break so there was no reason why he couldn't go out and have a good time. 

It was just a break. 

He flipped his phone back and forth between his hands as he sat in the backseat and resolutely did not text Nick while his driver fought London traffic. As the host of _The Radio 1 Breakfast Show with Nick Grimshaw_ , and purveyor of pop music, there was a very good chance Nick would be in attendance for one of the biggest album releases of the year. 

Louis and Nick were two weeks into their month-long trial break. They’d decided that some forced time apart would provide clarity about whether or not they wanted to cut their losses or work to address some of their major issues. They bickered constantly, they both went out of their way to make each other jealous, and Nick's fear of commitment was absurd and almost legendary. Despite living together for almost two years, sharing a bed and daily orgasms, Nick still refused to classify Louis as his boyfriend. Nick called him 'his Louis' which, he'd explained many times, was better than being just his boyfriend. Nothing he said changed Louis' mind; the word was important and to him, they were boyfriends.

Louis exited the car and quickly passed through the throng of paparazzi documenting the celebrities' arrivals. He was never going to get used to the flashes that caused echoing fireworks behind his eyelids. Inside, he helped himself to multiple shots of tequila at the open bar before finding Liam and Zayn at a crowded table with half of Little Mix. As he joined them, a waitress appeared to take their order for more cocktails. 

"Hiya, Love!" Leigh-Anne pulled Louis into a tight hug. "Looking good."

"Congrats on the album. It's really great. I've been listening all week." Louis knew that she was fully aware he needed to keep the conversation focused on anything but his personal life. 

She pulled away with a pitying look and gently rested her hand on Louis' shoulder. "How are you doing?" 

Louis flashed a smile. "Great! You need another drink?" 

Before she could answer, Perrie grabbed him by the elbow. "Shots and dancing!" She shouted into his ear while leading him to the bar. He waved to his bandmates as he followed her; he would find them later in the night. As soon as he could stand that look in their eyes. As soon as he was drunk enough to forget. 

Or he could avoid everything but the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream and the thumping bass of the dance floor. 

The bar was packed. They elbowed their way to the front and Perrie waved the bartender over. When the party was thrown in your honor, you didn’t wait for drinks. 

After another few rounds of tequila, he’d lost count at that point, his muscles started to loosen up and his head was just foggy enough to almost forget what had been at the forefront on his mind for two weeks. Through the pulsing lights he caught sight of their boss, Simon, huffing and puffing as he tried to weave through the thick crowd, arse kissers slowing his forward motion. Louis was both too drunk and not drunk enough to deal with him. 

Louis grabbed Perrie's hand and apologized to the couple they were talking to, they both looked vaguely familiar but Louis hadn't caught their names in the commotion of the club. He pulled her onto the packed dance floor and they were enveloped by the crushing mass of gyrating bodies. 

He willed himself not to ask Perrie if she thought he would show. She wouldn't be able to hear him this close to the speakers anyway. 

They moved their bodies to the beat, swinging their hips and shimmying their shoulders. Perrie never strayed too far from him, though there were plenty of people vying for their attention. He flicked his hair out of his face as the beat dropped and the whole crowd bounced together as one. He threw an arm up in the air, and flexed his wrist to the beat. 

Perrie pulled him in close and shouted, "Having fun?" 

"Yeah!" He shouted back. "Sick DJ!"

She nodded in agreement before laughing and throwing both her arms in the air. 

As the crowd shifted around them, he tried not to be too obvious as he scanned for one particular stupid face. Had this party happened two weeks ago, they'd be grinding their bodies together, if they hadn’t already given up on dirty dancing and found an empty loo stall. He had almost forgotten what it was like to dance without the distraction of a hard on. 

The lights pulsed in time with the beat and the drinks kept coming, served by go-go boys who flirted as they passed around brightly colored shots.

"You could have your pick, you know." Perrie's breath was hot on his face and the scent of tequila sharp. She raised her eyebrows with a knowing look. 

"No one's quite caught my eye." It wasn't a lie. 

"Night's still young!"

Louis was drawn back into the music, an EDM remix of a throwback 80s hit. Eventually, after wiping a rivulet of sweat off the side of her face, Perrie kissed both of his cheeks, and left to work the room. 

Louis remained on the dance floor; he closed his eyes and felt the music thrumming through him. His body finally relaxed. He was pumping his fists, shaking his hips, and jumping along as the beat dropped in song after song. 

A large pair of hands grasped the sides of his waist, drawing him close. Louis stepped back into his space. The guy was ripped and had a great sense of rhythm, but it wasn't quite right. The stranger wasn't quite tall enough, he was too muscular, and his stubby fingers clung too tight. But Louis stayed in his grasp instead of rocketing off. Mr. Muscles rocked his hips forward and Louis felt his hard dick pressed into his lower back. Not that he wanted to feel it again, but it boosted his confidence that the way he moved on the dance floor had that effect on someone. Whoever he was. 

When he thrust forward again, Louis couldn’t control his shudder. He turned to face him. He was objectively handsome, but Louis felt nothing. He put some space between them and continued dancing, as they both searched the crowd for someone else, their eyes gliding past each other as they looked around. 

Louis knew he'd need the loo soon and started to plan his escape from the mass of bodies when a much more familiar pair of arms wrapped around his waist. Mr. Muscles took the cue and slid away, off to find someone else to rub against. 

"Zee!" Louis shouted as he turned around. "Thank you! I was stuck with him forever!"

Zayn quirked an eyebrow. "Dude, you could've just walked away."

Louis shrugged then threw his arms around Liam who had just caught up with Zayn.

"I'm so happy you guys came to dance with me!" Louis exclaimed. 

Liam stumbled. When he flung his arm up to correct his balance, he knocked someone's drink all over them.

"Nah, gotta take this one home." Zayn wrapped a steadying arm around Liam's back. 

"You good, Lou?" Liam slurred. 

"Wanna come with?" Zayn asked. "Seems like you've had a few too."

Louis shook his hips. "Nah, I'm going to stay a little longer."

"You sure, mate?

"You drag me out, then beg me to leave? Make up your mind!" He yelled in faux indignation.

Zayn patted his back. "Be careful."

Louis rolled his eyes. "He's not even here." 

If Louis hadn't spotted Nick yet, he doubted he'd show his face at all. Maybe Nick was avoiding him.

"A few more songs and I promise I'll head out." And with a round of hugs, Louis was left alone again. 

As the night wore on and the party thinned out, his dancing transitioned from moving his body to the beat to grinding against the cutest boy in his vicinity. His muscles ached in the best way and he could feel his clothes uncomfortably glued to his skin with sweat. He was horny, and debating whether he should just drag the newest bloke to a stall; he was fit enough and had a nice mouth even if it was currently attached to Louis' neck. He thought maybe it would keep the lads off his back for a few more weeks if he got off with a stranger in the loo. Then he could spend the rest of the month moping until he and Nick got back together. 

He wondered briefly if Nick had been with anyone else in Louis' two week absence. The thought made him physically ill, his stomach lurched, and he knew he couldn't hook up tonight. He allowed more space between him and Fit Enough. 

Louis threw his head back and when he faced forward again, it was as if the crowd around him parted and a spotlight shone across the room. 

Nick. 

Louis blinked and Nick was still stood there. Nick. His back against the bar, face set in stone and unreadable, but wholly focused on Louis. The music dropped away, his blood roared in his ears, and for a moment the bloke grinding on him dropped away too. For the first time all night his cock started to fill in interest. The voice screaming in his head told him to ignore Nick, to absolutely not walk over to him, to not engage at all. Nick wanted a break and Louis would not be weak; he refused to be the first to make a move. 

He ground his arse back against Fit Enough, eyes locked with Nick’s. 

The fucker looked perfectly composed. 

Not angry. Not like his heart had been ripped out by two weeks without Louis. Not like he was going to come and claim what was his on the dance floor. Because Louis wasn't his, not tonight, not really. Louis smirked at Nick, then turned around so he faced Fit Enough behind him. 

Louis pulled him into a deep kiss, his tongue easily finding his way inside. It felt all wrong. It was sloppy and he tasted like stale beer, and he wasn't tall enough. The guy pulled Louis' waist in, their semis pressed together in a dirty grind, but Louis was pulled in the opposite direction, away from the sweaty body and into a solid presence behind him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Nick growled, his voice low, and the vibration perfect behind his ear.

Louis shrugged. "Don't hav'ta spell it out, do I?"

Nick spun Louis around and pulled him tighter, one hand wandering down and taking possession of Louis' arse while the other climbed higher and wrapped around the back of his neck. With his head tilted up, Louis became pliant in Nick's hold. Louis hoped he couldn't hear the moan escape his throat as Nick dipped his head down again, a hot breath right behind his ear. 

"Come on, we're leaving." Nick grabbed Louis' hand and laced their fingers together, pulling him through the crowd. "A car will be here in a moment." 

Louis allowed himself to be led away, through the gauntlet of paparazzi. He was back in Nick's grasp and everything slotted back in place. 

∭

The car ride back to their flat was a tangle of tongues and spit and roaming hands. Louis easily fell into the familiarity of it all. They knew each others bodies so intimately; Nick ran his fingers up the sides of Louis' ribs with the exact pressure that made him shiver. Louis looped a long section of Nick's hair around his fingers and tugged a moan from Nick's throat. He nearly rode Nick's thigh while he whispered all things he wanted to do when they got home. Louis staggered out of the car after Nick and wrapped his arms around his waist while leaning into Nick's back, and was practically dragged past their doorman; Louis refused to meet his eye. The ride up the elevator was just as electric. Louis could feel the throb in his neck where Nick was leaving a mark and both of his hands were squeezing tight enough to bruise. They stumbled into the apartment after Louis unlocked the door, and fell into bed, drunk and giddy. 

They had perfected that dance after years of practice; their bodies in synchronized movements of muscle memory. 

Louis had thrown back enough tequila to tamp down the niggling unease that was teasing the edges of his lungs. There was something that Louis couldn’t quite put his finger on, but Nick didn’t feel exactly the same in his arms. Louis was sure once they actually talked those vague, unpleasant thoughts would disappear. They just had to get through this rocky patch. 

Nick quickly opened Louis up, efficiency took precedence over pleasure. Louis didn't mind, really, he had missed Nick's touch too much to be particular, especially with the sheen of tequila still coating his thoughts. Nick’s furrowed brow and how he kept his eyes below Louis neck might not have been out of the ordinary, if Louis could focus enough to think about things like that. 

He dragged Nick's mouth away from his oversensitive nipples and into a quick kiss. 

"I'm ready." 

Nick pulled his fingers out but made no move to replace them, stroking over Louis’ balls and taint and then his slick, opened rim. He had the same look of concentration as when they had installed their entertainment system.

"Nick," Louis whined, "come on, you know I'm ready."

They hadn't used condoms in their bedroom for over a year. Despite the mess, they had agreed it felt better and they trusted each other. There had been a lengthy discussion about monogamy and labels and how they could have one without the other, which seemed like semantics to Louis, but he gave in because he was getting what he wanted—Nick—even if a traditional label was missing. The first time Nick had pushed into him bare, after a celebration of their clean health with a bottle of too expensive champagne, Louis couldn't stop the chant of _boyfriends boyfriends boyfriends_ in the back of his brain.

While Nick struggled to open a foil packet, Louis’ mind wandered. He didn’t think they even had condoms in the drawer with their lube. He wondered how old it was, it might be expired if it was one of their wallet condoms. 

"You don't—" Louis tried to focus, wetting his dry mouth and refusing to slur. "I mean, I haven't..." It had been two weeks. Two weeks when they were actually in the same city, two weeks when they would normally be humping like bunnies, and he missed Nick's dick. 

Nick exhaled loudly, then pressed his lips into a straight line. His eyes darted downward when the square finally ripped opened, and his hands trembled as he rolled the latex over his dick. 

"Ummmm." Nick finally looked at Louis. His mouth opened and closed and Louis wondered when the last time Nick was speechless. It was his job to have a comeback to everything, to keep the banter up. "Do you still want to, I mean, we could just do other stuff?"

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

A rush of images, every uncomfortable thought or suspicion he had learned to push down or ignore while he was on tour, flooded in. Nick flirting with someone else. Nick touching someone else. Nick kissing someone else. Nick orgasming with someone else. His stomach churned and every drink he’d had that night sloshed and threatened to come back up. He swallowed it all down. 

A break. A break. A break. A breakup. 

It wasn't a break. 

Nick wasn't coming home. He wasn’t moving back into their apartment. His half of the closet would just hold empty hangers. Louis wouldn't be able to steal his hair products and he would have to buy his own razors. No more oversized jumpers to curl up in when it was chilly. 

Nick was still kneeling between his Louis' legs, hard and ready. 

"No, it's fine, go ahead." Louis rushed out before he changed his mind. He'd deal with the implications later. Right now he missed Nick pressed against him, missed his grunts, missed his stupid hairy chest, and his cuddles. Nick was excellent at post sex cuddles. If this was the last time, at least he’d know, and could savor it while it lasted. 

But this wasn’t the sex that he missed. 

As Nick pushed in, Louis realized he had gone soft. Nick wasn't stroking him back to hardness or taking his focus away from the stretch with tender kisses. He was staring at Louis' chestpiece, the elaborate _It Is What It Is_ , and had his tongue peeking out, awaiting further instructions. 

Louis gripped his dick with a dry hand and slowly began to stroke himself. He nudged Nick's back with his heel. Nick nodded and pulled almost the whole way out before fucking forward. It was sloppy and rushed, their bodies pounded together mechanically. Nick wasn't telling him how good he was taking it. Louis wasn't telling him how good it felt. It took them a while to find a steady rhythm. The slapping sound of skin on skin, and their heaving breaths, were the only noises in the room. 

While Louis tried to cling to what they had, Nick looked anywhere except at Louis' face. Had he paid attention, he might have noticed that Louis was focused on a spot over Nick's shoulder. 

He blinked back his tears, but if any of them fell he could always blame it on the cock slamming into his arse.

Eventually, Nick grunted that he was close, and Louis nodded. He already knew that Nick was about to come. He had learned to read him over the years and it was all a little too familiar. He didn't want Nick to come while he was inside him; he wanted him to pull out and rip the condom off and come all over his chest. He felt dirty and frustrated, but before he could put his thoughts into words Nick was coming. His cock pulsed weakly, the condom caught everything it was supposed to, and Nick pulled out, leaving Louis feeling empty. 

Nick knelt between Louis’ legs and swatted away Louis' hand circling his own cock. He pulled Louis off tight and fast. They were both watching Nick's huge hand holding Louis, watching the steady up and down jerking until Louis was gasping for breath. Louis tried to hold off; if he didn't come, it wouldn't be over. They’d remain in suspended animation, nothing would change, and Nick would stay there in their flat. In their bed. But his body went rigid and his orgasm was ripped out of him, the force of it far stronger than the sex leading up to it, and the come splattered on his stomach and chest. Nick stroked him through it, only removing his hand when Louis whimpered. 

Nick shuffled off to the side and exhaled loudly. He tied the condom off, and flicked it onto the nightstand. Louis felt so stupid for letting the whole disaster of a night happen. He lay there with come drying on his skin while his... whatever he was... sat on the edge of the bed, neither of them with anything to say. It all seemed so far from fixable.

Louis looked across the bed at Nick, where he was sat completely still, head hanging down. Louis desperately needed to get rid of the come on his chest. He stretched to get some wipes from the nightstand. He ran through all of his options while he tried to figure out what the hell came next. Louis cleared his throat. Minutes ticked by and neither of them moved. Nick had always complained that Louis was never still in bed, flipping from side to side, rolling around, and trying to find the perfect position before he was able to fall asleep, and even then he’d toss and turn throughout the night. And yet, Louis was here, perfectly still in their bed, and Nick was unbearably interested in the wall. 

Louis cleared his throat again and tentatively asked, "You staying?" 

He desperately wanted Nick back in bed, with their limbs wrapped each other, his head on Nick’s chest, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. He wanted his Nick back, but for how far away Nick seemed, the bed felt as wide as an ocean. Even when there were literally thousands of miles between them, with Nick in London while Louis toured the world, they were never this far apart. No distance felt as insurmountable as this chasm between them. He steeled himself for rejection.

Nick finally answered, barely a whisper, "Yeah... Okay." He laid down on his side of the bed. It was still his side. In the two weeks since Nick had moved out, Louis hadn't allowed himself to stretch across that invisible line, except to reach for Nick in his sleep. Even then, he’d grasp hold of Nick’s pillow and pull it back to his side, where he’d sleep with his face pressed against it, breathing in his lingering scent. Nick’s side of their bed was just another empty space for the ghost of his presence, like the closet or the bookcases. Louis scooted over, so they were both on their backs, side by side, but not touching. It took Louis a long time to fall asleep. He stared at the ceiling, wondering when they had stopped being NickandLouis, wondering how he had so completely missed all he signs, where it had gone wrong, why Nick had come back, why he had stayed. 

He must have fallen asleep at some point because he woke up to sunlight pouring through his window. Nick's side of the bed was cold. 

He stretched out, flexing and relaxing his legs and rolling his shoulders. He felt the previous night in his arse when he rolled over onto his side and found a note stuck under the edge of the lamp. 

_Soz_ was written in Nick's scrawl.

Yeah, well, there was a lot Louis was sorry about too. 

∭

After he crawled out of bed, he crumpled Nick's note and only looked at his phone long enough to turn off notifications for The Rogue group chat. Apparently the paparazzi had captured their short stumble from the club to the cab, and Liam and Zayn were not happy. He didn't respond to their indignant interrogation, their demands to know whether Louis planned to take him back. Louis couldn’t explain for the thousandth time that they hadn't broken up, that they were simply taking a break, and that soon they'd be back together, stronger than ever. Louis ignored the niggling thought in the back of his mind, the one that said he was lying to himself, the sinking feeling that he was the only one carrying on this charade. 

He certainly wasn't going to admit to them that he had let Nick fuck him last night. 

He stood in his kitchen, not knowing where to start. So he reckoned he'd start small. Tea. He could use the only mug that Nick had left behind, the gold and blue one with the University of Liverpool crest, that Louis had hidden in the back of the cabinet. Maybe he'd smash it afterwards. But maybe not. There was always the chance that they’d get back together. Surely Nick wouldn't have left for good without his mug.

He opted for his everyday mug, _World's Best Big Brother_ scripted across the front. He returned Nick's mug to the back of the cabinet. Once his tea was ready, he sat down at his piano. He needed songs. Zayn and Liam had been writing and recording steadily since The Rogue officially went on hiatus. They had completed most of their contracted obligations, all that was left was one solo album from each of them, then they'd be free to walk away and create their own label. 

There was no better way to avoid thinking about his life falling apart than sitting down and pounding out some new songs. But every few notes he'd play would almost immediately turn into a song he already knew. Songs he had already written and recorded sung on stage a million times or songs that he grew up with and could play perfectly with no practice. He gave up.

He thought about going up to Doncaster to see his family. 

He missed his mum. 

He had been doing a great job ignoring her so far. 

Everyone else could stay on one side of the wall he’d built. He'd stay on the other side, alone. He’d wallow and mourn by himself, holed up in his flat, and in a few weeks he'd be back with the living as though his beating heart hadn't been ripped out of his chest. There was no need to let anyone know the complete mess he was over Nick fucking Grimshaw, of all people. He was never going to settle down and Louis knew it, all of London knew it, probably all of the United Kingdom knew it. And he didn't want to hear the pity in people’s voice or see the knowing looks on their faces. 

His mum already knew something was wrong. It made him feel even more guilty about not answering her texts or calls or even the single email she sent that meant she knew he was avoiding her. She was already treating him delicately, speaking softly in her voicemails, searching out a quiet corner in her mad, loud house, or calling him late at night when everyone else was asleep, to remind him that she was there. And that she would always be there, no matter what. She just wanted to make sure he was okay. Mother's intuition: she probably knew they had broken up. It seemed like he was the last one to realize it was over. 

He wasn't quite ready to tell her that her oldest son was unloveable. 

His mum had always liked Nick. So had his sisters. He fit in with Louis' family wonderfully. He may have always talked Louis' stepfather's ear off, and maybe he didn't have the utmost patience with the youngest twins, and his grandparents didn't understand why he couldn't afford unripped jeans, but his mum had liked him. She had. And her opinion mattered the most anyway.

Louis didn't want to tell them that Nick had broken up with him. Again. 

So he didn't. 

He sat the piano until his tea was beyond undrinkable and plucked at the keys. 

And what if Nick came back? Technically they had decided on a month long break. The possibility was there that Nick would realize he had made a mistake. If they were going to get back together, he couldn’t tell his mum that Nick had ended things. She couldn’t know how broken he was. His mum wouldn’t forgive him easily. 

Days later he finally called her. He had lasted two whole days without crying and he thought he'd be strong enough to make it through a phone call without breaking down. He was wrong. As soon as she answered the phone he started sobbing and didn't stop until he ran out of tears. She cooed at him through the hiccups and gasping breaths as he tried to pull himself back together. She told him that he was still lovable, that she would always love him, and that he'd find someone better suited for him anyway. 

He knew she was trying to be helpful, but it was just another sign of how out of touch he had apparently been. Louis had actually thought Nick was it for him. The only one he needed for the rest of his life. And really, fuck Nick. Fuck Nick so hard for making Louis fall in love with him. 

And honestly, fuck Nick for coming back solely for a one night stand. Nick was the one who was supposed to call. Nick was the one who slunk off in the middle of the night like he was ashamed. Nick was the one who couldn't face Louis in the morning light. Fuck Nick. 

Louis refused, absolutely refused, to call Nick first. 

Nick was gallivanting all around London. Not that going to literally every industry event he was invited to was out of character, but he was going to them looking carefree. He was smiling and posing and his eyes were glinting and he had his closest friends surrounding him at every moment. He didn’t seem broken hearted, he didn’t seem sad. In fact, by looking at him, you’d never know that anything was wrong. And maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe he was perfectly happy.

Nick was making jokes in the morning on the radio. He was bantering with guests like he always did, and telling stupid stories from his nights out with Fifi. Louis had taken to scoffing and talking back to the radio in the mornings, before snapping it off and stewing, then turning it back on. And repeating. Every morning. 

When Louis finally made a trip to Tesco, he was assaulted at the checkout by a wall of tabloids with Nick's face on the cover. Fuck the cashier too and his questioning look, as if he was trying to figure out why Louis looked familiar. 

Honestly, fuck everyone in London. 

Louis was doing a good job of ignoring everything and everyone. It had been days since he communicated with anyone other than his mom. His phone had stayed lit up with text after text, but after the last time he’d leapt across the room to find that once again it wasn’t Nick texting him, he’d nearly smashed his phone on the floor and shut it off. Apparently she’d been right to insist he keep the landline. 

At some point he'd turn his phone back on and contact everyone who had reached out him while he was in hiding. But for now, Fuck Them All.

Louis thought about going to his Los Angeles house. But he was pretty sure he was too bitter to enjoy the California sun. No, L.A. would push right over the edge as soon as he stepped off the plane. And knowing his luck, some paparazzi would be there to capture his entire breakdown on camera. 

Almost all of his memories in that house revolve around Nick. Late night skinny dipping in his pool and entire days spent in bed. He’s only ever taken Nick to his L.A. house. No, he couldn’t go to L.A. 

When he wasn’t sleeping, Louis spent a lot of his time playing FIFA. He had always been good at the game, lots of downtime in tour buses and hotels meant they had quite a lot of practice. But it was far more fun for him to play against the other boys or the tour crew than it was to face the glow of the screen in the dark room alone. He had won twenty games in a row, but he'd give up playing forever if Nick would come back. If Nick would walk back in the door, Louis would drop the controller and never play again. He might not even miss it that much. 

He really fucking missed Nick. 

And then one morning he woke up, went online, and saw Nick on the cover of the Sun. Not Nick alone. Not Nick with his friends. But Nick holding some guy's hand. The man was taller than Louis, with dark eyes and a lean, flat body. Louis stared, dumbstruck at the headline, _Grimmy gets grabby with George_ , until his eyes swam. Then he crumpled to the ground and sobbed until his stomach lurched, then he stumbled to the bathroom and puked while thinking of Nick with that guy—touching him, kissing him, fucking him, whispering good morning in the middle of the night when he crawled out of bed and went to work. Louis’ stomach heaved and he’d do anything for Nick to come home. He’d get up before dawn every day, go to every party Nick asked him to attend, he'd give anything Nick asked of him. Anything to make Nick leave this George person behind and come back to their bed. 

Louis couldn't find inspiration. Sad songs should have been pouring out of him. Heartbreak and betrayal should have fueled him. The words and melodies should have flowed from his fingertips. Instead, he sat at the bench, his fingers landing on discordant notes, and felt nothing. 

He was numb.

Nick wasn't coming back. 

He could barely drag himself out of bed. Somedays he didn't at all, just laid under the covers in a state of suspension, dreaming, not dreaming, thinking too much, not thinking at all. He was now officially a tortured artist, living every cliche he could ever imagine. He plucked at his guitar strings, but there were no words to express the emptiness. He pressed the keys on the piano, but there were no melodies he wanted repeated. 

Empty tea cups piled up in the sink. He couldn't remember the last time he showered. Or the last time he went to the shops for food. His life was in shambles and he had no idea how he could possible pick himself up out of this disaster and move on when he couldn’t even pretend to be a functioning adult. He went back to avoiding his mum's calls, for fear she'd hear something in his voice that he couldn’t hide and decide that she needed to come see him in person. There was no way she could find out that it had gotten this bad. 

Then one morning he woke up and washed all the tea cups. That night he showered. The next day he dragged himself to the store. The day after that he answered when his mom called. And the day after that he let Liam and Zayn back into his apartment, despite the mess. 

Liam showed up first, he burst through the door and without a word and enveloped Louis in a tight hug, squeezing until Louis was truly concerned for his air supply and he pushed Liam away. 

"What the fuck, dude?" Liam looked around at the, frankly disgusting, apartment. 

Louis shrugged and turned back towards the living room and his nest on the sofa. 

Zayn knocked before Louis could sit back down and Liam let him in. Zayn slammed into Louis' back with the force of a large, over-excited dog, and held on tight. 

"Missed you."

"Yeah, yeah," Louis squeezed the arms wrapped around his torso. "You're here now, alright?"

Louis felt the moment Zayn realized the state of the apartment, tensing before slowly letting go. 

"Cleaning crew on strike?"

"Ha. Very funny. Haven't felt much like having anyone in my space."

Liam followed them into the living space and shuddered. He passed by the sofa and threw open the thick curtains, letting in a blast of sunlight. Louis squinted at the assault. Liam also opened the window up a crack and Louis pulled the duvet around himself tighter, breathing in the fresh, cold air. 

Zayn and Liam looked cautiously at Louis, like they weren't sure what they were and weren't allowed to say. 

"So I made a mix..." Louis started. 

The boys nodded. 

"The best mix of like, upbeat, girl power, fuck you, I'm better now that you're gone songs. But I haven't been able to listen yet."

Liam broke into a grin. "Well let's turn it up loud and get to cleaning."

Louis reached across the table covered in takeout containers and magazines and dirty socks to find his phone so he could connect it to the bluetooth speakers around the flat. 

"Ready?"

"Ready."

∭

Zayn and Louis were outside on the balcony rolling joints while Liam took a call from his family. 

"Man, I know it sucks, but you have to find a way to move on." Zayn had abandoned his previous plan of quiet support for a more direct approach. "He’s an arsehole, and you weren't as happy as you're remembering that you were, and you need to get your head out of your arse and forget about him." He passed the half-smoked blunt over to Louis with a quirked eyebrow. 

"I'm trying," Louis muttered. 

"You're not," Zayn countered. "Have you even showered today? You're fucking rank. As soon as we smoke this, you're going inside and taking a shower and putting on trousers and we're going out." The sound Louis made was bordering on a moan but it died in his throat when he saw that the smirk left Zayn's face. "I'm not letting you record a whole fucking album of whiney break-up songs, so help me God. We're going for a kick around if nothing else." 

Louis had no problem admitting that he’d missed hanging with his boys, and he knew he needed the fresh air after spending an embarrassingly long time hiding in his dirty apartment. After their impromptu pickup game, they headed back to Zayn's. Well, it was more like Zayn kidnapped Louis and wouldn't let him go back home for more wallowing. Instead of settling in with some takeaway and an action movie with way too many explosions, Zayn forced him to take another shower. Then Zayn led him to his closet to find something to wear (Zouis fans will go crazy! Which made Louis full-body laugh and then go searching for Zayn's most recognizable clothes.) and then they headed out to dinner. 

Zayn's "just a few friends" turned out to be more than twenty of their industry friends gathered together to celebrate a birthday in the private dining room of a restaurant. 

"Oh shit." Louis clawed at Zayn's arm. "I totally forgot about this." 

"I know. You've been a bit distracted."

Louis hissed, "What if he’s here?"

"He's not." Zayn gave him a pointed look and Louis didn't ask anything further. And Louis was incredibly uncomfortable. He felt like half the party wouldn't even talk to him, it seemed that as soon as he’d come near, people would suddenly find something interesting on the other side of the room. He couldn't be sure if other people were avoiding eye contact or if he was. But when one of their friends—who started as Nick's friend—quickly averted his eyes in the men’s room mirror, and didn't even stick around to wash his hands, Louis was pretty sure it wasn't totally in his imagination. After about the third pitying look and softly asked, "How are you holding up?" he glued himself to Zayn’s side in their corner booth and refused to get up even when Zayn pointed out that it was his turn to get the next round. 

"Nah, think I've had enough." Louis claimed. 

Zayn sighed. "Yeah, sure, let me get our car sorted and we'll head out."

Zayn made his rounds, saying his goodbyes, and Louis was thankful that Zayn could read him better than almost anyone. When Zayn made it to the front door, all he had to do was nod in Louis' direction and he knew it was safe to get up and make a beeline to the front door. 

He tossed and turned all night then when the sun started to creep in his windows he knew that the possibility of a worthwhile shuteye was null. He dragged himself out of bed and made his way straight to the kitchen to turn on the kettle. He debated for a moment, then decided to torture himself and turned on his radio. Even though he knew it would be painful, hearing Nick's voice fill his kitchen still knocked him breathless. He couldn't make himself stop listening. He slid down and sat on the floor, his back against the cabinets, his knees pulled up his chest, and let out a single sob before trying to get himself under control. 

He sat through an entire story about Nick's driver getting turned around on his way to the station that morning; doubling what should have been only a five-minute drive. Nick's producers were laughing at the absurdity of the situation and at Nick's exasperation when he tried again and again to tell the driver that there was no shortcut. Louis could only lament that he didn't wake up to twenty outraged texts as Nick attempted to survive his terrible commute. He couldn't help but wonder if someone else was getting those texts, or if he had to suffer alone until he got to the studio and had an audience to vent to. He was lost in his thoughts and missed the beginning of whatever interview had started and his whistling kettle brought Louis back to reality. During the music and ensuing ads he thought about turning the radio off. He knew that turning it off when Nick's timbre wasn't bouncing around the tile would be easier, but instead he thought that he'd listen to one more segment and settled down at the kitchen table, laid his head on his arms, and ended up listening to whole show. He didn’t lift his head until Clara Amfo greeted the mid-morning listeners. Then Louis dragged himself back to bed, cursing himself. 

He went back to ignoring his phone and after a few days Liam and Zayn staged another intervention. 

"I'm fine, I promise. I'm just giving myself time to wallow."

The other boys exchanged a look that Louis knew did not bode well. 

"What?" Louis whined, drawing out the vowel. 

They didn't stop looking at each other in a silent conversation about who would break whatever news they had to share. "Well, you see," Liam started, easing into the conversation. 

Zayn cut him off. "You don't have time. The label wanted you back in the studio, like, yesterday, and you have blatantly ignored them."

Liam jumped in when Louis rolled his eyes. "We almost drew straws to see who would have to come over here and check for a pulse."

Louis huffed in indignation. 

"Seriously, bro. We're worried about you. Where's your phone? And charger?"

Louis pointed vaguely in the direction of the foot of the bed and Liam hopped up to make himself useful while Ziam launched back into his diatribe. "We get it, we really do. He broke your heart and he's out there working and living his life, and you don't want to run into him. You're sad and it's easier to be sad than to pick yourself up and go about your day. Especially when our time is pretty unstructured, but, and this is a huge but, you have another album to deliver. You have to get back to work. You need to get your sorry arse up and get back to the land of the living."

His phone came to life and there was an onslaught of pings as all the messages from the last few days loaded at once. Liam scrolled past all of his and Zayn's messages and looked to see if there was anything of importance that he needed to address. 

"When was the last time you talked to your mom?"

Louis did feel truly awful about that. 

"Lewis! She's left like six voicemails and countless texts."

"I don't know what to say to her."

"It's Jay! I'm surprised she hasn't sent the police or Paul over to make sure you're okay."

Louis promised that he'd call his mom back and that he'd meet them both in the studio the next day, so they could mess around and see if they could come up with some new songs. 

∭

The studio smelled distinctly of weed when Louis walked in. Zayn was sprawled across well worn sofa, notebook perched precariously on his knee while he spun a pen through his fingers. 

"You made it!"

Louis may have seriously considered not showing up, but they’d threatened to tell his mum the reality of the situation. "I did! How long have you been hot boxing in here?"

Zayn dismissed the question with a wave of his arm. He sat up a bit, then patted the cushion next to him. "I've been here for a while. Thinking about you actually."

Louis rolled his eyes. "Where's the stash?"

He picked the tupperware up from where it had slid mostly under the sofa and handed it over to Louis. "Thinking about how you should leave."

"Arsehole." It really would not be any skin off Louis' back if he were to leave now. He had a perfectly good couch-nest to bury himself in. 

"No, not like now. Stay. Smoke. Write with me."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Louis added rolled up a fatter joint than he would normally. That'll show him. 

"I mean you should leave London."

"Still not making sense, mate. Where the fuck would I go? And don't say LA. I've already considered it and it's not happening."

Zayn screwed up his face in disgust. It was the same look he gave him when Louis told him about the house he was buying. Zayn hated being out in the sun as much as Louis loved it. Or had loved it. He glanced down at his pale skin. 

"Not L.A., but like, somewhere where's he's not."

Nick was everywhere. And it was awful. But so was the idea that Nick was so all consuming that he needed to literally flee the city to get over him. "It'll all turn to white noise eventually."

"Liam was telling me about this friend of his."

"Liam has a friend we don't know about?"

Zayn plucked the lit joint from Louis' fingers. At the same time there was a sharp knock on the door and Liam walked straight in. 

"You're a little shit sometimes, you know that?"

Louis laughed. "Yeah, I've heard that a time or two."

Liam threw an arm around Louis. "But you're our little shit." He helped himself to the burning joint. "Whatcha being a shit about."

Zayn laughed. "You, actually."

"Then I'm smoking the rest of this as punishment."

"Zaynie here was tell me that you have a friend I don't know about it."

"Oh, Harry?" 

"Mate, you tell me." As long as Liam was smoking the rest of the joint Louis crossed the room so he could grab the guitar propped against the wall. He fell into the nearest chair and strung a chord. 

"Yeah, Harry from sixth form. He's in Madrid, now, I think. I think you two would get along."

Louis was definitely not going to show up on the doorstep of some stranger that used to know Liam in a foreign city. 

Even though he would love to watch Ronaldo play live... maybe he could plan a short trip someday. 

"I'm just saying, it might be good to go out and get some new experiences."

"You're writing has been shit recently."

"What writing?"

"Yeah, exactly."

As their conversation continued and the afternoon wore on, it seemed like Madrid could have some benefits. Apparently Zayn and Liam had already planned this all out for him. It was only a two and a half hour flight back to London, easy if he needed to come home to see his family. But still a totally different culture with different history and a different language. New sounds. New architecture. New people. 

Liam said he trusted Harry with his life. Louis knew about the rough time Liam had with bullies when he was a kid, so already appreciated this Harry fellow for befriending his Liam and realizing what a wonderful person he was. And he wasn’t a fame leech either. They exchanged regular emails and stayed up-to-date with each others' lives. If Louis went, he wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't be able to hide in a hotel room and pine from a distance, he'd have someone to keep an eye on him and show him around, maybe introduce him to some other people. They all knew Louis went stir crazy if left alone too long. 

Another reason why he needed to leave their, his, apartment. 

He needed to get out of their—no, his apartment. And that was just one more reason. Nothing felt like his any more. Not his bed, his city, his life. 

He was going to take this trip. He needed something—an experience—to call his.

**Author's Note:**

> [Rebloggable Tumblr post if you're so inclined. xx](http://louandhazaf.tumblr.com/post/161168919363/title-always-holding-on-to-stars-author)


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